


Roads Not Taken

by penna_nomen



Series: Caffrey Conversation [49]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Angst, Embarrassing Nicknames, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-25
Packaged: 2021-03-08 19:20:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27071887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/penna_nomen/pseuds/penna_nomen
Summary: The Caffreys and Burkes gather after losing a member of the family. Sara considers her options after rumors of a layoff. Neal has an embarrassing nickname. Angst and fluff.
Relationships: Neal Caffrey/Sara Ellis, Peter Burke & Neal Caffrey
Series: Caffrey Conversation [49]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/65698
Comments: 7
Kudos: 19





	1. Bad News

**Author's Note:**

> This story takes place in the Caffrey Conversation AU, where Peter recruited Neal in 2003 instead of arresting him. For more about the AU, see my profile or visit the Penna Silbrith Conversation blog. This story takes place immediately after Silbrith’s story titled “Cheekbones Caffrey”

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal receives bad news

**Baltimore, MD. April 7, 2006. Friday evening.**

Neal Caffrey was in the basement of the Winston-Winslow headquarters, with Peter Burke, Mozzie, and a handful of Winslows. They were celebrating yet another win against a seemingly unbeatable villain. This one had kidnapped Neal's cousin Henry Winslow, who was now safe and sound and famished, and thus was loudly insisting they move the celebration to a nearby Italian restaurant. Henry's boyfriend, mother, stepfather, and grandfather were all present and debating the logistics of eating out versus ordering in when they were likely to spend the meal discussing details of a case that shouldn't be shared publicly.

The White Collar team had been on a streak lately, with a string of impressive wins. And the problem with a streak was that it always ended. You had to be ready for the moment when your luck turned.

Neal's phone vibrated with a text message, and looking at it, he wondered if this was that moment.

"Everything okay?" Peter asked quietly.

Neal smoothed his expression as he explained it was a message from Annina Brandel, asking him to call. She was a U.S. Marshal in New York who had helped White Collar with a handful of cases, but wasn't currently working with them on anything. So that meant she probably had news about one of his family members in WITSEC. Chances were slim that it would be good news.

He walked upstairs to the main lobby, which was quieter and more private. Despite having braced himself for bad news, it still came as a shock. When the call ended a few minutes later, he stared ahead blankly, wondering what to do next.

Glancing at his phone again, he saw an email notification. Sara wanted to know if they'd rescued Henry. It must be after 2am in London, and she was still awake, waiting to hear how things had gone. Without giving it another moment's thought, he called her.

**Sara Ellis' flat.**

Sara sat curled up on the sofa, a cup of tea in her hands. She kept forgetting to drink it, but gripped it for its comforting warmth.

It was only a rumor, she told herself for the umpteenth time. 

She glanced toward her laptop, where she'd started updating her resume a few hours ago. One of her employer's competitors had decided to outsource their insurance investigators, and someone mentioned today that Sterling-Bosch might follow their lead. It was _under consideration_ with no decision expected right away.

But still, it made Sara question her choices of two years ago. Would she be better off if she hadn't let Sterling-Bosch tempt her away from Winston-Winslow?

Thoughts of Win-Win had her checking her phone, to see if there were any updates from Neal. She typed a quick email, asking how things had gone.

Minutes later she heard the ringtone she used for Neal. It was "Mockingbird" — a song they sang together during a romantic vacation in Venice a few months ago. "Hello," she said, a smile in her voice.

"Sara, umm…" Neal said. Not a good sign. In normal circumstances he was silver-tongued.

That's when Sara remembered that 2am calls were rarely good news. "Is Henry okay?"

"Yeah. He's fine." He took a deep breath. "I just got off the phone with the U.S. Marshals. My mom died."

"Oh, Neal. What happened?" She stopped herself. "Sorry, I don't want to be intrusive."

"No, it's okay. I'm still trying to wrap my head around it. I thought telling you might help me prepare for talking to my family. The Marshals said Mom decided to go on a vacation, and her car slid off a road in the mountains on her way back from a ski resort. It… the road wasn't meant for tourists, but the warning sign was down, or she didn't notice it." He paused. "I didn't catch that part, I guess."

"So it wasn't anything to do with being in WITSEC?" Sara asked, wondering if Neal were in danger.

"They don't think so. It'll take a while to process the scene, but it looks like a single-car accident. They'll examine her car and do an autopsy, to be sure."

Sara felt her eyes tear up in empathy. She'd been in her late teens when her mother died in a car accident. She remembered receiving many offers of help in the first weeks, and she hadn't taken advantage of them. She hadn't been ready, or even known what she needed. How could anyone help when all she really wanted was to have her mother back? Now she was experiencing the other side of the equation, wanting to help, and suspecting that Neal wouldn't know what to ask for. "Do you want me to come to Baltimore?" she offered.

"I think we'll head to D.C. That's where my grandparents live, and where the Caffrey family plot is." He paused. "I don't know if you can get a flight from London at the last minute, but yeah, if you can get here…" He trailed off. "It's a lot to ask. Could you even get the time off?"

"I'm not working on anything urgent at the moment, and I want to be there for you," Sara insisted. She opened her laptop and navigated to her favorite travel site. She didn't mention that she'd already searched for flights in case they hadn't been able to rescue Henry. All she had to do was press the purchase option. 

"You know all of those movies or news clips where someone learns that a loved one has died, and they immediately burst into tears? That isn't how I reacted at all. It's like I fast-forwarded into acceptance."

"No, I'm pretty sure you're still in denial." Sara gripped the phone tightly. "I'm a lot like you in that regard. We don't accept defeat until we've exhausted every option for turning things around. You're still trying to think your way out of this, aren't you? Wondering if they misidentified her, for instance."

"That crossed my mind," Neal admitted. "I wondered who identified her and if they could have made a mistake."

"I didn't cry until I saw Mom in her casket. That's when I really gave up hope that everyone was wrong about her being dead."

Neal took a sharp breath. "I'd forgotten about your mother… I'm sorry, this must be bringing up memories you don't want to slog through again."

"Let me use what I learned to help you. Then it feels like some good came from my experience."

**Transatlantic flight. April 8, 2006. Saturday morning.**

One of the things Sara had learned from her experience with grief was not to try blocking sadness. It would only come back in a stronger wave if she tried to push it away. So she accepted the feelings that accompanied reminders of her mother's death, but she didn't cling to them. By the time she boarded the flight, she had dried her eyes and was ready to focus on other matters.

At least Neal wouldn't be alone in the hours before her flight would arrive. He had family with him, and Peter. They'd be able to help him deal with the logistics of planning a funeral. Were there special rules for funerals when the deceased had been in WITSEC? Sara pondered the question and told herself the Marshals would let the family know of any protocols they needed to follow.

To keep herself occupied, Sara opened her laptop and worked on her resume again. It crossed her mind that she should ask Henry if he'd be willing to act as a professional reference. She assumed he'd agree; after all, they'd remained friends the last two years. But was it possible he held a grudge over her sudden resignation to accept the offer from Sterling-Bosch? He'd been her boss at Win-Win, and shortly after she quit Henry's father had died. It's certainly possible he resented her leaving at a time when he could have used more support at work. Yes, she should definitely ask before listing him as a reference.

Of course her mind wandered back to Neal. For all her assurances that she understood how he was feeling and would be able to help, she had a few doubts. After all, she'd been a teenager when she lost her mom, and they'd been very close. Neal was an adult who'd had a particularly complicated relationship with Meredith Caffrey. It sounded like drinking or depression or both had turned a lively and fun young woman into a morose and distant mother. No wonder Neal was concerned about his lack of tears. He was probably feeling guilty about… about not _feeling_ as much as he thought he should.

And of course as a con artist he'd become an expert at masking his feelings. Now that she knew him, Sara was certain his emotions ran very deep, and that keeping them hidden was a defense mechanism. She didn't exactly put her emotions on display for the world, either. Being orphaned at sixteen, she'd had her own need for defense mechanisms.

Once again, she and Neal had more in common than she'd imagined when they first met.

She'd been staring out the window at the clouds, and now she turned back to the resume displayed on her laptop. She had her answer about whether leaving Win-Win had been the right choice. She'd met Neal because she had decided to move to New York. She couldn't regret that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sara’s decision to leave Win-Win and go to work for Sterling-Bosch happened in the story Caffrey Flashback.


	2. Grilled

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sara prepares to be grilled by Neal’s family about their relationship.

**Edmund and Irene Caffrey's home. April 9, 2006. Sunday afternoon.**

"I can't help wondering why she took that road," Neal said. "Did she ignore the warning signs?"

"She was always the best of us at driving on slick roads," Irene said. "She might have thought she could handle it."

"Meredith wasn't one to back away from a challenge," Edmund added.

Neal glanced at Sara, and by now she'd learned how to interpret that look. It meant that his memories of Meredith differed from those who'd known her pre-WITSEC. At some point during Neal's early childhood, Meredith had stopped facing challenges head-on and had instead turned to alcohol.

Irene and Edmund Caffrey were Meredith's parents, and Neal's grandparents. Retired from their careers as an actress and an ambassador, they had a level of polish and dignity that Sara found almost intimidating. They were also so kind and welcoming that she liked them immediately. And it was fascinating to think about the traits Neal might have inherited from them.

"It's like that Robert Frost poem," Sara said. "The one about choosing one path over another, and it making all the difference. There are so many what-ifs. What if she'd traveled a day earlier or later, when the weather might have been better? I went through a series of what-ifs after my mom's accident, as if finding the magic scenario could somehow save her."

Noelle nodded. She was Meredith's sister. Identical twin in fact, as Sara had learned when they had looked through photo albums after lunch. Was it weird for Neal, seeing and hearing this woman who at least externally was exactly like his deceased mother? Sara felt a twinge of relief that the aunt who had taken her in had only a passing resemblance to Sara's mom. Aunt Celeste lived in Baltimore, and Sara planned to visit before returning to London.

"We could follow what-ifs forever," Noelle agreed. "It can help us understand what happened on an intellectual level, but it doesn't help us accept the finality of it." As a professor of psychology, Noelle could pull off statements like that with aplomb.

A knock on the door interrupted them. "That must be the caterer!" Irene exclaimed. She sounded more excited than Sara would have expected. On the other hand, perhaps she was eager to leave what was turning into a downer of a conversation. Irene stood and walked to the door with all the alacrity a woman of her age could summon, and Noelle followed.

Minutes later, Noelle returned to the entry of the living room. "Sara, would you help us set things up?"

"I can — " Neal began, and Henry also stood up.

Noelle shook her head. "Mom wants to chat with Sara."

"Get ready to be grilled," Henry warned under his breath. "Eric's still talking about the _chat_ they had when she decided to pull him aside over the holidays."

"I'm sure he's exaggerating," Sara said, doing her best to exude confidence. Henry's boyfriend would have warned her if Irene was scary, right? Besides, Sara was friends with Neal's cousin Angela, who hadn't mentioned anything about her fiancé being grilled.

On the other hand, maybe they had been waiting to warn her. If not for Meredith's death, Sara wouldn't have met Neal's grandparents until they came to New York in May for his graduation.

Sara followed Noelle to the kitchen, thinking about the stereotypical questions Neal's grandmother might ask. _How serious are you about Neal? Do you think you'll get married? Do you want children?_ She regretted that she hadn't spent time on the flight preparing answers. Shouldn't she have expected this?

The kitchen was homier than she expected, given how formal the living and dining areas were. The creamy color of the cabinets was matched in the blue-and-cream striped wallpaper, and there were whimsical touches like a ladybug teapot and saucers with bunnies on them.

A caterer was lifting a set of white boxes from the shelves of a stainless steel cart. "That's the last of it," she said. Irene signed the receipt, and Noelle opened one of the boxes.

"Wow." Sara took in the sight and smell of high-end pastries with chocolate drizzled over them.

"Profiteroles." Noelle glanced up to make sure the caterer was on the way out to the front door. One of the concessions the family had to make for WITSEC was not mentioning Meredith in front of anyone else, thus quashing Edmund's desire for a traditional Irish wake at a local pub. "They were one of Meredith's favorite things to make."

"She worked at this catering company before she moved away," Irene added. "They still use several of her recipes, so ordering from them is like having her cook for us again." She sighed. "Meredith loved to cook."

"She'd host massive parties at their townhouse in D.C.," Noelle said. "She'd cook an internationally-themed, multi-course meal, with music and decorations to match, and invite more people than you'd reasonably expect could fit. I think the only reason their neighbors didn't complain is that she'd invite them, too."

"I wish I had a neighbor like that. I'm a terrible chef myself," Sara admitted, wondering if this would disappoint them.

"The rest of us were happy to let my sister handle holiday meals," Noelle said. "Neither Mom nor I could come close to her skill." She opened another box and glanced at Irene. "You went French for everything?"

Irene shrugged. "That was Meredith's favorite."

"Did she speak French?" Sara asked.

"She spoke everything," Noelle said on a sigh. "At least, that's how it felt to me. We visited many countries as children when Dad was in the diplomatic corps, and it seemed she picked up each language within days. I couldn't begin to keep up with her in that regard."

"So even though you looked alike…" Sara trailed off.

"We had very distinct personalities," Noelle agreed. "We could impersonate each other well enough to fool most people, but not those who really knew us."

"You never fooled me," Irene declared, "but your high school teachers were another matter."

Noelle raised a brow. "I didn't realize you knew."

Sara hid her smile by turning to open another of the boxes. "This smells heavenly. Duck a l'orange?"

Irene nodded. "That was another of her specialties. We ordered crepes Suzette, too. And a bottle of champagne to toast Meredith."

Noelle opened a drawer and reached inside, but left her hand resting on the flatware. She seemed frozen in place, until a silent sob shook her.

"Oh, Honeybunch." Irene put an arm around her daughter's shoulders, and her own eyes were bright with tears.

"I mourned her once already, when she went into WITSEC. I didn't think the grief would be as bad a second time, but it's worse." Noelle leaned against her mother and sniffled. "This is so… so _final_. There's nothing like losing that final hope to really crush you."

Irene rubbed a hand along Noelle's back.

After a moment, Noelle stepped away from her mother and wiped her eyes. "I'm sorry, Sara. We hoped to get to know you better, and instead we're wallowing in grief. I'd understand if you'd rather escape from the kitchen."

"Not at all. You've been so strong up to now that I was getting worried." Sara gestured toward the flatware. "Shall I help set the table?"

"Please do," Irene said. She led the way to the dining room, where she pulled fine china from a hutch.

Sara folded the ivory linen napkins on autopilot, placing them around the table and arranging the flatware. She'd been contemplating whether to mention it, and finally said, "I know what you mean about hope, Noelle. I have a sister, too."

Noelle looked surprised. "Neal hasn't mentioned her."

"Emily is… was… a few years older than me. She ran away as a teenager. We traced her to New York, but then the trail went cold." Sara moved out of the way as Irene set plates in front of each chair. "She's the reason I left Win-Win and leaped at the opportunity to work for Sterling-Bosch. After so many years I still believed I could find her if I moved there myself and dedicated time to the search."

"Did you?" Irene asked.

Sara shook her head. "There wasn't any sign of her. The logical side of me realizes that it's highly unlikely she came to a happy end. But there's still that glimmer of hope that someday I'll get a message from her, and find out all of this time she's been…" She trailed off. The cliche would be to say Emily had been living a life of domestic bliss. Was this the right time to admit to Neal's family that domestic bliss wasn't Sara's vision of an ideal life?

"A spy!" Irene exclaimed. "Living undercover, and not able to contact you until she retires."

Noelle chuckled.

Sara smiled, delighted to find they shared her sense of adventure. "That would be perfect."

Irene glanced around as if ensuring no one was listening in, and then confided in a low voice, "There were occasions when we lived overseas that I was approached to carry a confidential message."

"Really, Mom?" Noelle sounded skeptical.

"Well, one time," Irene said. "And Meredith was my accomplice. I slipped a small envelope into her onesie before we reached the border crossing."

Noelle still looked skeptical.

"Her tummy had been acting up. Her diaper smelled noxious, even to me. No one wanted to search her." Irene smiled at the memory, and then the smile faded. "I've outlived two of my children now. Noelle, you must take care. I can't endure this again."

After shedding a few more tears, they called everyone in to dinner. In addition to Irene and Edmund, there was Noelle and her new spouse, plus Neal and Henry. Peter Burke — who was now Noelle's brother-in-law — had been joined by his wife Elizabeth. As Irene had mentioned, her son David had died, but his widow Paige lived in D.C., and their daughter Angela was there, accompanied by Angela's fiancé. Edmund insisted on the joviality of a wake, and thus the excellent meal was accompanied by happy stories and memories. Sara was glad to hear Neal chuckle at some of the stories, but was also sad that he had so few to contribute.

When it came time to clean up, Sara, Noelle, and Irene were banished to the living room. Caffrey family tradition dictated that those who served the meal had immunity from cleanup duty. While others dealt with the leftovers and dishes, Noelle picked up a pile of photos of Meredith. "We need to select a few to display at the service," Noelle explained. There was to be a private funeral service in the morning led by the local parish's priest, with only family in attendance. And Sara, who seemed to count as honorary family. She hoped her decision to come here to be with Neal wasn't going to lead to pressure from his family regarding their relationship. "We don't have any photos of her after she went into WITSEC," Noelle continued. "I worry that none of these will speak to Neal at all."

"Do you have one of her at a river?" Sara asked.

"Of course, Neal's art exhibition!" Noelle said at the reminder that Neal was creating a series of paintings featuring rivers for his graduate program at Columbia. She bit her lip as she sorted through the photos, discarding them at a rapid pace as she searched for the one she wanted. "Here it is." She handed it to Sara.

The photo was of the twins and their older brother. Sara guessed David was around fifteen, and the twins twelve years old. They were posed near an impressive river, with distinctive architecture in the background. "Russia?" Sara guessed.

"Yes, it's the Neva River."

"The Neva?" It was Neal's voice. The others were following him into the living room. He reached for the photo, and his brow furrowed as he studied the image. "I've been there. That exact bridge, in fact."

"When?" Henry plucked the photo away. "It doesn't look familiar to me."

"Not surprising, since you've never been to Russia. That building in the background is the Hermitage, a famous museum." Neal smiled and winked at Sara. "I was there for the art."

Sara smiled back, certain she'd get the story out of him eventually. He'd probably been there to plan a heist.

Irene took the photo from Henry. "I remember that trip, and the museum. We learned a great deal about the tsars. At least I did."

Noelle added, "I was fascinated by the portraits of the royalty in their elaborate gowns. Meredith was more interested in the still lifes." She glanced up at Neal. "She was hungry, and there was very realistic fruit in those paintings."

"And I was busy keeping David away from a collection of swords," Irene added.

"Those were excellent swords," Neal said. "They called out to me as a fencer."

The conversation flowed as family members recalled visiting the Hermitage, and Neal spoke more than he had all day. Noelle reached out to squeeze Sara's hand and mouthed the words _Thank you_.

And with that, Sara was confident she'd been right to come here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, and thanks to Silbrith for her beta reader magic! She suggested the Neva river and Hermitage when I was looking for a setting for the photo. In our AU Neal is attending college where he’s studying Art History and Visual Arts; this is one of the marvelous plot threads Silbrith introduced, and in her stories he has been creating a series of paintings featuring rivers as part of his coursework. 
> 
> I’ll post the rest of the story next weekend. It will pick up at this family gathering, and then take us back to New York.  
> I’ve written a post about this story. You can find it at the Penna Silbrith Conversation blog.


	3. Baby Bear Returns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Neal shares a secret.

**Edmund and Irene Caffrey's home. April 9, 2006. Sunday night.**

Neal was pleasantly surprised at how the evening was going. He'd never attended a wake before. The closest experience he had for comparison was a celebration-of-life event June Ellington hosted after Byron passed. Most of the attendees seemed to enjoy the party at June's mansion, but it had been an agony for Neal and he'd escaped to his loft as soon as he could.

Was it easier this time because he'd had that prior experience with grief? Or was it because he knew everyone here instead of being among strangers? 

It would be an interesting topic to delve into with the psychologists in the family one day. For tonight, he simply appreciated this room filled with people he loved. When Byron died, Neal couldn't have fathomed having this many people in his life that he'd feel comfortable leaning on and mourning with. Now it was difficult to imagine life without them.

The stories shared this evening brought smiles and tears, and the group accepted both as normal. A box of tissues was handed around, hugs were given, and then they moved on to the next story.

Neal stretched an arm around Sara, aware that she was the outsider this time. Although now that he thought about it, she knew almost everyone. Only Paige and Neal's grandparents were strangers to her, and Irene and Edmund seemed to have made a career out of turning strangers into friends.

In fact, Irene had guided the conversation to Christmas and was making it clear that she expected everyone — including Sara — to spend the holidays here in D.C. Irene and Edmund explained that they wanted to host one last big holiday bash while they had the health and the space to do so. They were thinking of either downsizing or remodeling their home next year to have a place that would be easier for them to maintain.

Sara glanced at Neal, clearly hesitant to make a commitment for the holidays. There was so much they were planning for in the near term, including his graduation. They hadn't even talked about Thanksgiving, much less Christmas.

Angela won Neal's gratitude by taking the spotlight. She promised that she and Michael looked forward to spending their first Christmas as a married couple here, and then deftly changed the subject to the upcoming wedding.

That topic eventually led to Irene finding a photo album filled with images from the wedding of Meredith Caffrey and James Bennett. Most of these were pictures Neal hadn't seen before, and seeing his mother so young and carefree brought a lump to his throat. She'd had no idea the twists her life would take. Neal ached for her, and for the life they might have had.

Sara squeezed his hand, and he squeezed back. Then he looked around the room and said, "Over the last few months, Sara and I have been sharing secrets. I told her about Mom and WITSEC." He looked at her. "But I haven't shared my deepest, darkest secret. In fact, I'd been hoping to convince everyone here to keep it from you."

Sara smiled encouragingly. "I do love deep, dark secrets."

Neal asked Henry to find the DVD of one of the movies their grandmother had acted in. In fact, it was her last movie, in which she'd had only a cameo. It was a remake of an earlier film in which she'd played a lead role, and if they were going to watch the movie he'd have picked the original. However, this evening he instructed Henry to bring up the movie's extras.

"You sure?" Henry asked. "There's no going back."

Neal nodded.

Their cousin Angela looked confused. "What's in the extras that's a secret?"

"Think about it, Funny Bunny," Henry told her.

"Oh." Angela's eyes widened. "I get it."

Now it was Sara's turn to look confused.

Neal wanted to thank her for flying out from London to be with him, and he was going to do it by sharing what he considered to be his most embarrassing secret. He explained that the extras included an interview with Irene in this very room, and that both he and Meredith had been present that day. "This will be the closest you'll ever come to meeting her. It also reveals something I've been keeping from you. When I reconnected with the family, I learned that Caffreys go for embarrassing nicknames that get assigned when you're an infant."

"Like Funny Bunny," Angela added. And she bounced a little in excitement, unconsciously demonstrating part of the inspiration for her nickname.

"Ready?" Henry asked.

"Let's go, Tickle Bug," Neal confirmed. He glanced over as Sara choked back a laugh over Henry's nickname.

A few minutes later, the clip ended. Seeing and hearing Meredith had brought a lump to his throat, but the scene also made everyone in the room smile. Neal was glad he'd requested it.

"You were an adorable baby," Sara said. "And Irene is right, you do growl sometimes when you're grumpy."

Neal was quick to deny it. "No, I outgrew that long ago."

Sara shook her head. "I'm afraid not. You'll always be Baby Bear."

A chorus of agreement followed, with family members insisting that Neal was still Baby Bear.

**Neal's loft. April 12, 2006. Wednesday night.**

Neal closed the door behind U.S. Marshal Annina Brandel, and checked the time. Nearly midnight in London. Fortunately Sara was a night person like him, and he decided to call her.

"Neal." There was a smile in her voice when she answered the phone. "Or should I call you Baby Bear?"

Neal groaned. He was certain it was a groan and not a growl. "Already I regret sharing that secret. What do I need to do to buy your silence on this topic?"

"Hmmm. I feel as if I've been granted a wish, and I want to use it wisely. Let me think it over and get back to you."

Neal relaxed into a few minutes of teasing, grateful for Sara's skill in lightening his mood. "Remember the Christmas letter I wrote to my mom?" he finally asked, well aware of the answer. He'd obsessed over what he'd wanted to say, and had run it by Sara before handing it over to the Marshals. "The Marshals did give it to her. They said they let her keep it long enough to discuss it with her therapist, who suggested she write a response. She knew the Marshals wouldn't let her send it to me, but they agreed to hold on to it, to send it along if anything happened to her."

Sara took a sharp breath.

"Yeah, it made me wonder if she had a premonition something would happen to her. It's unlikely, but still hard not to go there in my mind."

"Did the Marshals give you the letter she wrote?"

"Right before I called," Neal said. "They wouldn't let me keep it —"

"Why not?" Sara demanded.

"They're concerned it could be used to find her therapist, whose notes might contain information of interest to the people who are looking for my dad and Ellen."

"Okay, I can see their point."

Neal had been sitting, and now he stood to pace. "In the letter, she mentioned that reading about the things I was doing inspired her to be more adventurous. She thought she deserved a vacation and was planning to take a road trip." He ran a hand through his hair. "Annina told me that Meredith had been living in New Hampshire, and her accident happened on her way back from a resort in upstate New York. I never realized she was so close."

"Did the letter give you any closure?" Sara asked.

"Sort of?" Neal stopped pacing and stood at the windows to the balcony, watching the rain fall. "It made me hopeful that she wanted to be more like the woman my family remembers. But at the same time I feel guilty that my letter may have inspired a scenario that led to her death." Lightning flashed, followed several seconds later by distant thunder. "It really helps being able to talk about this with you."

#

In her flat, Sara also watched rain streaming down. "I wish I were there in person," she said, glancing toward her laptop and the resume she'd been updating. Before she'd returned to London, she'd had a conversation with Henry about the possible outsourcing at Sterling-Bosch. He agreed to act as a reference if needed, proving he didn't hold a grudge over her resignation. "In fact…" she trailed off. She didn't want to get in the habit of keeping secrets from Neal, but this hardly seemed the right moment to burden him with worry about her career.

But of course he'd heard the hesitation and realized she had something on her mind. "Anything wrong in London?"

Instead of telling him about the rumors at Sterling-Bosch, she focused on a revelation she'd experienced on the flight home. "Not exactly. It's more a matter of how right things felt when I was with you last weekend. Being on an international assignment has been exciting, and I'm glad I've had this experience, but it's starting to lose its appeal."

"It would be amazing to live in the same city again. Or at least the same continent."

"Agreed." She smiled. "I can tell you were a thief from an early age, because Baby Bear stole my heart." She paused as he groan-growled again.

"You've fallen for Baby Bear?"

"Let's say I've fallen for the man who would share that with me in front of his family. I found it irresistible."

She realized that she was facing a fork in the road she'd been traveling the last couple of years, with one path leading back to New York and Neal. Sara wanted to take that path.

**Later that night.**

After he'd eaten and given more thought to the letter, Neal decided to call Noelle.

"I wish I could have seen it," Noelle said. "I don't suppose the Marshals would be willing to send Meredith's letter to Baltimore."

"I doubt it. Annina made it sound like it's going into a vault here in New York. What would you be looking for if you could see it?"

"The handwriting," Noelle said immediately.

"You think it's a forgery?" The idea shocked Neal.

"No, but handwriting can give insight into a person's state of mind."

"Now that you mention it, I'm surprised it was handwritten. Maybe she didn't want to trust the contents to a computer that could be hacked. From what I recall, I'd guess she wrote multiple drafts as she thought over what to say. The version I saw had neat, crisp handwriting, with nothing crossed out."

Noelle was silent a moment, and then asked, "How did she sign it?"

"MB." Neal paused. "I assumed it was for Meredith Bennett, but now that you ask, that doesn't seem right. She divorced him. Why not sign it MC for her maiden name?"

"She knows you've reconnected with the Caffreys, including your grandparents." Noelle sounded thoughtful. "It would be safe for her to assume you know about the Baby Bear nickname. When Irene dubbed you that, Meredith pointed out that her own initials could stand for Mama Bear."

"Do you think that's what she meant by MB?"

"It's my best guess," Noelle said. "It could have been an extra attempt to reach out to you in a very personal way, showing that she still had maternal feelings toward you."

Then the conversation turned to something less pleasant. The Caffreys had assumed that eventually Meredith's body would be sent to D.C. to be buried in the family plot, but that wasn't to be. After the autopsy, she had been cremated. The Marshals would return her remains in an urn, which the family could inter if they wished. Noelle offered to discuss it with her parents, who would be bitterly disappointed. Morbid as it seemed to Neal, his grandparents had been looking forward to seeing her body. He supposed it tied back to what Sara had said about her own mother's funeral, how seeing her mom in the casket had made it seem more real and final. Everyone had their own way of saying goodbye, he supposed.

Neal shrugged it off. The wake and the letter gave him all of the closure he needed. But since his grandparents wanted to see Meredith, maybe he could help by giving them a picture of her. It wouldn't be precise, not after all the years that had passed since he'd last seen her, so he'd go with charcoal instead of oils. He'd capture her spirit, focusing on mood more than details of her face. Since the last location he knew of for her was a ski resort, he drew the background based on the Lynx resort he and Peter had visited for a case last year.

Several hours later, as Neal put away his art supplies, a stray thought occurred to him. He'd teased Peter Burke on multiple occasions about being a Polar Bear because of his love of cold weather. The initials PB also stood for Papa Bear.

Neal and Peter had different views on the idea of destiny, but surely anyone had to agree that Peter was meant to be a father figure. Now that El and Peter were talking about having a baby, it was practically Neal's duty to point out the Papa Bear connection.

Wanting to thank her for that inspiration, Neal raised a glass of wine in a toast to Meredith. "Goodbye, Mama Bear," he said to the drawing of her.

And suddenly he felt a wave of grief for the woman who had thought of herself as his Mama Bear.

"You're gone. You're really gone," he said as he wiped away the tears he'd thought weren't in him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has been in our series outline for a long time, and I'm both glad and relieved to have written it. I drafted parts of it during the anniversary of my own mother's death and writing about the characters' grief helped me. 
> 
> The "You're gone" line is inspired by the White Collar finale, where Peter says, "He's gone" to Mozzie and later says "You're free" to Neal.
> 
> Thanks to Silbrith for suggesting the Neva river and Hermitage museum. I made up the museum displays to suit the story. The case at the Lynx resort is featured in Silbrith's story The Dreamer.


	4. DVD Extras

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For those who want more detail about the DVD extras featuring Meredith and Baby Bear, I described them in Chapter 2 of Caffrey Disclosure. Below is a copy from that story so you don't have to go hunting for it.

Track three was an interview with a very sophisticated Irene Caffrey in her home in Washington D.C. Her husband wasn’t an ambassador yet, but they had spent many years in the diplomatic corps and Irene was the epitome of poise and grace under pressure. The interviewer was asking about Irene’s cameo in the remake, in which she played a grandmother, and he seemed determined to make the case that she wasn’t suited for the part. 

“I do have two grandchildren, you know,” she said drily at one point, but the interviewer repeated his opinion that no one could imagine Irene Caffrey as a grandmother, or even as a mother. In the nanny role in the original movie, he explained, she’d been near the age of the children and had been more of a cohort or big sister. No one, he repeated, could believe former comic actress Irene Randolph as parental or authoritative.

Finally Irene held up a hand, and said, “Shush. Kevin, is that you lurking back there?”

A voice off camera said, “Yes, ma’am.”

“A producer, like your father, aren’t you?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he said again.

“I remember your mother brought you to the set when we were filming the original movie. You couldn’t have been more than a couple of months old, and I chatted with her sometimes when she changed your diaper. I want you to know that I still have her number, and if you let this farce continue I’ll be giving her a call this evening.”

Snickering could be heard from the cameraman.

A voiceover announced, “Needless to say, that interview never aired, and the reason you probably don’t recognize the interviewer is that he was fired the next day. Mrs. Caffrey declined a follow-up interview, as the movie was slated for a Christmas release in the next few weeks and she said spending time with her family was her priority going into the holidays.” The DVD clicked to the next track, and that same voice said, “The crew had arrived at Mrs. Caffrey’s home about an hour ahead of the interviewer, who was running late and didn’t take time to talk to her or the crew ahead of the disastrous interview. They were given permission to film as they set up and adjusted the lights. In footage never seen before, one of our cameras followed the actress while she waited for the interview.”

Irene Caffrey knelt in the middle of the living room where the interview would take place. The folds of her pleated ivory skirt fell neatly around her, and an emerald green blouse complemented her eyes. Her golden hair was pulled back in an elegant twist. She looked around and said, “Well, I was going to introduce you to my grandson, but I don’t know where he went. I do hope we find him soon. We’d be awfully upset if we lost him.” Her voice had a teasing quality.

A childish giggle was heard.

“Oh, did you hear that? I wonder where that came from. Do you think it’s him?”

The camera zoomed in on a child, about nine months old, peeking from behind a chair. He giggled again and then crawled toward her, babbling in baby speak.

“There you are!” Irene lifted the child up and he shrieked with laughter. She sat down on the sofa, bouncing him on her lap and talking to the crew until the child yawned. “Dear boy’s getting tired. Is it your nap time, Neal?” she asked. He gave an even bigger yawn in response. “Yes, I thought so.” She’d pulled him closer to her body, his head on her shoulder, and was about to stand up when another little boy ran into the room. He was three years old.

“Neal, Neal, Neal,” he chanted as he ran. He skidded to a stop in front of Irene and announced, “I’m here.”

“Yes, Henry, I noticed. Aren’t you the little scoundrel?”

“What’s a scoundrel?” he asked.

“It’s a very clever boy who sneaks away from his grandfather.”

He shrugged. “He had a phone call. It was boring. I wanna play.”

“I’m sure Neal would like to play with you, too, but he can’t right now. It’s time for his nap.”

Henry pouted. “He sleeps a lot.”

Irene reached out to ruffle the disgruntled boy’s hair. “It’s tiring growing as fast as babies do. But he’s working hard to become as big as you.”

Henry clambered up the sofa to sit beside his grandmother and looked at Neal with disbelief. “He’s really gonna get big as me?”

Wrapping her free arm around the boy, she nodded. Before Irene could say anything, a dark-haired woman about 30 years old entered the room. She wore an apron over a cream blouse and black slacks. “I thought I heard you in here. Henry, I’m looking for someone to help me finish the profiteroles.”

“Profi…” He trailed off on his attempt at the unfamiliar word.

“Profiteroles,” she repeated. “Someone needs to drizzle chocolate over them and then taste them. I need an expert to approve they’re good enough for dessert tonight. Do you think you could do that?”

“Chocolate!” Henry slid off the sofa and took the hand extended toward him. He was halfway across the room in pursuit of a sugar high when he turned around and yelled, “Bye, Neal!”

The woman paused just inside the door to the hallway. “Do you need any help with him, Mom?”

Irene sniffed in disdain. “Don’t insult me. Baby Bear and I will be fine.”

“Baby Bear?” asked a voice off camera.

Irene beamed in the direction of the voice. “Would you hand me that bag? The blue one, behind you. Yes, that’s it.” A hand could be seen placing a bag on the sofa. Irene rooted around in it and pulled out a fuzzy onesie with bear ears on the hood. “Isn’t it the most adorable thing? I had to buy it the moment I saw it.” With practiced efficiency, she slid the baby into the onesie. “It’s nice and cozy, and Neal sleeps best when he’s warm.”

“You call him Baby Bear because of the outfit?” asked a member of the crew.

“Nonsense. I bought the outfit because I call him Baby Bear. Come here.” She beckoned. “Bring the microphone, right up to him.” She turned the baby toward the camera. His face was scrunched up. “Hear that rumbly, growling sound? He does that when he’s unhappy. It’s our warning that he’s about to cry. And that’s my cue to take him up to his crib. I’ll be back in a few minutes.” She left the room and the camera crew. As she disappeared she could be heard cooing to the sniffling baby, “That’s right. I know. You’re tired, and I’m going to take you to a nice, comfy bed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed the fluff!


End file.
